Mortal Conversations with Death (closed)

No matter the belief of the individual, death was scary and death was a looming threat. It was always hanging over a person's head that it was there and no matter what people tried, it would never go away. The simplest fact about death though was no matter the belief, it brought about change and human beings never delighted in the prospect of change. Small change was feared by the masses and so it was completely logical to fear death since it was a unknown change to all. It was almost like a mystery. The twist only appears at the very end and then the stories over.

Susan Thain hated mysteries. She liked to know how things would end even before she started which is why on that lonely October evening she decided to rent a romantic comedy. Before she even picked up the box that held the DVD, she knew how it would start and end. Girl hates boy, boy woos girl, girl falls in love, strange mixups happen, girl professes love to boy, boy marries girl, and they live happily ever after. A formulaic film for a girl who never liked surprises. Perfect.

Susan moved to her couch, resting comfortably in a worn spot that had been used daily as per her schedule. She took up the remote in her hand and after checking that it was exactly seven. In moments, the television stirred and images of a lovely romance began to play. Becoming increasingly engrossed in the film, she barely noticed the tastelessness of the no salt, no butter popcorn she had made herself.

It wasn't until the middle of the film when she noticed something was wrong. The two were falling in love too quickly. It wasn't right, it wasn't natural. She squeezed the small pillow next to her and watched the rest of the film begrudgingly.

"He's gone," the television echoed harshly towards the end of the film.

Susan was shocked. She blinked at her television for a moment, hoping that it was just one of the films hijinxes, but she would have no such luck, the male lead was dead. So immediately, she picked up the tv's remote and switched it off before the last scene could play. She didn't quite understand what was wrong as she wiped a tear off her cheek. This wasn't her sad/tragedy movie night. She'd abolished those ever since she was dumped. Another change her weak mind just couldn't handle.

With naivety of a child, she stood from her seat and began to wander. There was nothing to do. It was too early to sleep and the sounds of her guitar would only serve to annoy her neighbors. So she shuffled her feet on the hardwood floors of her apartment, trying to fill the time.

Of course, she didn't expect the doorbell to sound. It wasn't a bad neighborhood she lived in, but the hour was late so she grabbed knife from her kitchen and walked to her door. The knife was hidden behind her back and she cracked open the door, peering out into the night. No-one was there. She frowned and pushed it open all the way and stepped out, looking at the surrounding areas. Not a person was out.

Again, her face twisted into a frown and walked back inside and placed the knife down on her coffee table. Maybe it was time to sleep. Of course, she changed her plan when she walked into her room and saw a woman in black going through her things.

"Wha.. who!? what are- who are?!?!" She yelled, not able to get out her sentences.

The passing from one world to the other. The taking of a life. The disbursment of the soul. No matter how you think of it, death is the end. But is it really the end? Or is there more? A life beyond death? No one really knows. No one can be one hundred percent positive. When that last breath is drawn, when those eyelids flutter for the last time, I'll be there. I'll be there to take your soul to the underworld. To help you cross over, so to speak. No matter what your story is, no matter how hard you beg or plead, death will come for you. And close on it's heels, breathing softly down your neck, will be me... Death.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore. While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor,'" I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door; only this, and nothing more." The subtle voice seemed to echo throughout the street as a figure, slim, tall, diminutive in all aspects, seemed to glide down the blacktop. Though she, and it was surely a she, walked with a slow, steady pace, she seemed to cover a great distance in a short amount of time. Her hair was darker than obsidian, and hung down, all the way to her hips, in slow, falling waves of straight black. The most extraordinary thing about her was the black top hat that sat atop her head. It seemed a dull thing, though the girl was most intrigued by it. She kept lifting her hand to run along the top, and then she'd trail her fingers around the brim. A strange creature indeed.

Booted feet softly clomped up the porch of 23 Hawthorn Lane, her black eyes roaming over the door frame, almost as if expecting something to jump out at her. Her eyes flashed for a moment as she looked inside, Susan Thain seemed to be walking about her house in a semi daze. That wouldn't do, not at all. The woman at the door tilted her head to the side, causing her jet black hair to fall over her shoulder in a dark wave, covering her pale skin in complete contrast. Her lips were pursed in a thin, black line, her eyebrows knitted together almost as if she were deep in thought. With a resigned sigh, a pale hand lifted and pressed the doorbell. And just like that she was gone. It wasn't likely this figure was going to play ding dong ditch, though...

The girl with black eyes, and pale skin sat in Susan's room, her legs crossed for a moment as she looked around. This was the life of a sad sad girl. No job, no friends, everything in meticulous perfection. "What a mess. What a mess." She murmured to herself as she stood, letting her eyes roam over the bed, and then the dresser, the closet. Even the carpet was meticulously examined by the watchful hawk eyes of the pale intruder. Quickly, she walked over and started opening drawers, her hands pulling and pushing, probing and wondering into the life and privacy of Susan Thain.

"Wha.. who!? what are- who are?!?!"

The girl smiled sardonically, her lips curving into a vicious grin. "Well hello there, Susan Thain." She gestured to the room, her arms spreading wide as she walked, rather calmly, to the chair in the corner of the room. Reaching down, she meticulously brushed off the seat, though that wasn't really necessary. Turning around, the woman's eyes traveled over Susan, her face contorting into the evillest of laughs as she slowly, still with that unmoving calm, sat on the chair, crossing her legs at her feet. "Introductions can be so pesky sometimes, considering I know all there is to know about you." Sighing, she lifted her hand, tugging the top hat off of her head. She swept the upper half of her body into a small bow. "Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Death, Susan. And I've come for you."

Maybe Susan Thain had gone into a state of shock. Maybe she'd entered a new state of fear greater than even that one time she got off schedule. Maybe she's even knew the truth and was avoiding it at all costs, but it still didn't explain her actions towards the calm woman standing in front of her. Susan was a force of nature as she spun around her room, grabbing her jewelry box and her ipod and other items of value. Trying to ignore the woman's words she handed the items to her. "Here, please don't hurt me... these are the most valuable items I own." The items overflowed from her hands as she pleaded and shoved them towards the woman. "Please don't hurt me..."

Susan dropped the items in her hands and stopped. It all fell with a loud thunk and cling as her most expensive treasures mixed on the hardwood, but Susan didn't seem to mind. She blinked at the woman and cleared her throat. "Ex-excuse me, but did you say... death?"

She stood frozen trying to think. Any thought would do. She frowned. Seriously, any thought... Slowly thoughts began to pour back into her mind, but they were just as crazy as before so she decided to exit the room and wait for the woman to finish robbing her. It wasn't like there was anything she could do. She was helpless, even if she did fetch her kitchen knife. Knifeknifeknife. She should've kept it with her. She cursed at herself. It seemed like a good thing to have now, but she didn't know. How was she suppose to know a crazy... druggie thief was going to try and rob her. That's right, the woman in her room was a drug addict and she was halicinating or whatever people do when they're on drugs. Unless she wasn't a drug addict and was just using the "I am death" thing to scare her. Come to think of it, the girl wasn't even carrying a weapon... That was it! The robber was trying to distract her!

Susan ran back into her room yelling "ahah! You thought you could fool me! I mean, jeez. That's good, but I'm not as supersticious as everyone thinks I am. Well, beside the whole rabbit foot thing, but seriously, that's low. Even for a thief." She shook her head at the woman, like she was disappointed in her. "Now, please leave before I call police and they arrest you for being crazy." She paused for a moment. "They can do that, right?"

Tilting her head to the side, Death slowly grinned as she watched Susan walk out of the room, babbling to herself. "Go ahead and run child... I'll always find you.." She whispered to herself, walking over the things Susan had dropped on the floor. Cool, black eyes traveled over all that the woman held dearest. Kneeling down, she let her fingers softly trail over the belongings before scooping them up and walking over to the dresser. Death made small *tutting* noises as she methodically set the items back in their right positions and then turned, looking out the bedroom where Susan had trekked. Sighing, she made her way out of the bedroom. She looked around, not knowing where Susan had went, but she knew she'd come back. "They always come back." She murmured as she made her way into the kitchen. Though damn! She was too late, Death realized not a moment too soon as she saw Susan's retreating back. Back to the bedroom we go. She thought inwardly as she quickly went about her deathly ways.

"Ahah! You thought you could fool me! I mean, jeez. That's good, but I'm not as superstitious as everyone thinks I am. Well, beside the whole rabbit foot thing, but seriously, that's low. Even for a thief."

Death slowly walked out of Susan's closet, her hair now pulled into a pony tail right underneath her top hat. She looked over to Susan as her hand lifted, idly smoothing over the edge of her hat as she pulled out a deep blue sweater with tiny flecks of silver stars on it. "Why don't you wear this anymore, Susan? You used to look gorgeous in it." Shrugging lightly, she dropped the sweater in the doorway of the closet and walked over to the dresser where a tall cup of coffee, one of Susan's mugs, was sitting on the top. "Coffee?" She offered the cup after having taken a small sip of it.

Death set the mug on the dresser beside Susan, knowing she'd more than likely not actually take it from her, and walked over to the wall, looking out at the darkened night. "I'm not crazy, Susan. And I'm not a drug addict either. I told you, I'm death. And I've come for you." She turned and looked at the woman, her hair out of the hair tie now, and gently flowing down her back. "You've led such a... Different... life, Susan. Never letting anyone close. Always choosing your tidy little way of things here, inside your home. You're young yet. You should be out, making your way in the world. Not falling to pieces because the lead in a movie died. Death, inparticularities, last minute changes, these are all a part of life, Susan. You should learn to accept them." Turning, she stared back out the window, her voice whispering once more. "Besides, Susan... Know thou the secret of a spirit? Bow'd from its wild pride into shame?" She turned once more to stare at the woman, her face an unreadable mask of nothing but a sardonic grin. "On mountain soil I first drew life. The mists of the Taglay have shed. Nightly their dews upon my head, and, I believe, the winged strife. And tumult of the headlong air have nestled in my very hair. Can you say these things, Susan? Confusing as they are? Can you?" It was strange, no doubt, for Death to simply stand her and have a conversation with a mortal. But this girl, this Susan Thain, tugged at her. There was much they could both learn from one another. And, in time, they would.

"Death" held out an old sweater Susan hadn't worn since her mom gave it to her for christmas over a year ago. She rolled her eyes at it and pushed it away, shaking her head. "It was way too tight and revealing. No-one would respect me in that thing. And the stars are really childish. I haven't worn stars since I was seven. Way too mature for something like that."

Nervously, she moved into her room again, mainly so that she could keep tabs on this 'death' woman. Only when the woman began to ride her on her distinctively different life did Susan really begin to get angry. "Maybe those things are parts of others' lives, but I like the way I live. It's nice, comfortable. Safe. I don't have to worry about other outcomes because I have my outcome planned. I'm a planner. It's the best way to live. No room for error."

Of course, Death wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. Susan should have known better than to try to speak to the woman. Crazy, Crazy. Something began to boil in her chest. She just wanted to be left alone. "Hey, would you stop quoting... shakespeare or whoever! You're not making sense. None of this makes any sense!"